


Good Boy

by kateyboosh



Category: The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: And trying to level up my, Angst, Boosh boys on tour, Going off brand for some, M/M, No mischief in this one, Okay fine I'm getting out of the tags now bye, Platonic comedy partners, Smut, Thank you universe, This fic was a gift from the universe, You know how I said everything I write will end with a kiss? definitely not this one, lol, noelian - Freeform, the words good boy are spoken but it may not be what you're expecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24360652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyboosh/pseuds/kateyboosh
Summary: "It's not the words, it's the tone in which Julian asks him, always asks him, that sends dangerous ripples across his skin, brings blood rushing to his cock, makes him feel bashful and desired and dumb and wanting to please him with his answer. "Angsty, smutty, sad boys tour times.
Relationships: Julian Barratt/Noel Fielding
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20





	Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was a gift from the universe. I was trying to fall asleep, thinking about working out a scene for my BBTB exchange fic, and started down the Noelian thoughts path instead. Sleep was just a pause; I woke up and grabbed my phone and this happened in about two hours and I still don't know where it came from. I never thought I could write angst, let alone angsty smut. I had the worst time coming up with the title and was seriously considering posting it as Untitled, until one crazy night where the obvious name struck me and [MamaZoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaZoom/pseuds/MamaZoom) and I both hopped back into the DMs to capslock yell at each other after we'd gone to bed.
> 
> References to sad past events, but a hopeful ending.

Noel's sprawled out naked and damp on the bed, the towel that he didn't bother using to dry off crumpled loose next to him. He's flipping through a magazine as fast as he can, the edges snagging at his fingers, dripping his wet hair and limbs onto the bed and the thin, glossy pages. They'd herded him up here and locked him in with Julian after his last disappearing act. For his own good, probably, but it still stings, being treated like he can't be trusted, like he needs a childminder to watch over him. He feels full of nervous energy, best used up in bursts of dancing and drinking and getting fucked up and lost with friends or acquaintances or unknown crowds of people, electricity sparking out of him into everyone surrounding him until he catches his breath and the energy's back again, doubled this time. Locked in this tiny room, he's boiling over. He feels it building; he wants to throw a massive strop.

Julian's sitting in the armchair opposite, nearly crammed behind the door, scuffed boots still on, suitcase next to him. He looks uncomfortable, even in his own room, but what else is new. 

He hasn't said anything so far, maybe a handful of words, but Noel wasn't really listening. He was planning his escape. Good luck getting through the door with Julian's broad shoulders blocking it, and when he saw the steep drop from the bathroom window, he peeled his clothes off and took a long, aimless shower instead. The warm water pelting him felt good, took away some of the edge. He'd picked up a towel and considered it, carried it back out cradled in his arm like an heiress with a fluffy lapdog, leaving wet footprints in the carpet, and tossed it next to him with no intent of using it. Sitting on the bed with nothing to do and hours til the show, the nervous energy's back and doubled on its own. 

He twists in the sheets, scratching his back like a dog, getting the bed even wetter than before. 

He huffs out a sigh. "Julian, I'm bored." It comes out sounding petulant and spoiled, when he was going for disaffected and louche. 

Julian raises a brow, but doesn't respond further. He sits still as a statue. Noel can feel his eyes resting on him, resting in just one place, maybe right about the bridge of his nose, when he wants to feel them roving up and down the length of his outstretched body. He's looking in the direction of his eyes, but not  _ in _ them. It's only making the energy worse, collapse in on itself and snap back to life again and again. It's infuriating.

"Why don't you dry off properly and get dressed?" Julian asks offhandedly. Casually. Bored with the situation and unfeeling.

"Why don't you come over here and we can make the bed even wetter?" Noel snaps back. He knows Julian has a tube of lube in the top left zip pocket of his suitcase; failing that, there's some in easy reach in his doctor's bag on the bedside table. 

Julian snorts. "Feeling rude today, are we?" He shifts, sits up a little straighter from where he's slumped in the armchair. Eyes still resting on the bridge of Noel's nose.

He feels burning on the back of his neck, a sharp scrape like the sizzle before the flare of a match. "No, I'm fucking bored locked up in here with nothing to do and no one to talk to and you won't even look at me properly," he spits.

Julian makes a small noise of considered assent in the back of his throat, a calculated hum of agreement that makes Noel drop his defenses, makes him think he's won. It's a mistake on his part; he should know better by now, but Julian's got him cornered before he can blink.

Julian sits up straighter, pinning him to the bed where he lies with a look of measured intensity. He doesn't dare squirm or blink or breathe too heavily, feeling sweat break out under his arms and in his groin and in the bend of his knees. He knows what's next; a simple question, phrased innocently enough. It's not the words, it's the tone in which Julian asks him, always asks him, that sends dangerous ripples across his skin, brings blood rushing to his cock, makes him feel bashful and desired and dumb and wanting to please him with his answer. 

He's half-hard already, just under Julian's gaze and the anticipation of what will happen next. Julian knows; he doesn't need to break eye contact to check. 

"Is this better, then?" he asks, his voice deep and smooth and touching every nerve ending in Noel's body.

"Tell me how it feels," he continues, his tone nearly playful, gentle, every word falling on Noel's exposed skin like a soft, warm touch. He feels himself flush across his cheekbones and his chest, skin hot under the blue-black of his stubble. Everything in the world evaporates and shrinks down to Julian's gaze and he wants to tell him it feels like being kissed and fucked and sucked and caressed by a gentle breeze all at once, but he can't make the words come, he's too small and weak and tired and lost to force them out. 

Julian waits the space of three slow breaths and nods. "Sit up," he says tersely, his shoulders tense in his white buttondown. 

Noel complies, swinging his feet off the bed so quickly his vision goes a bit black around the edges. He rests his palm on his thigh and Julian snaps at him. "Don't. Put your hand on the bed and don't touch yourself."

The dark tone in his voice and the burn of his eyes across Noel's body when he breaks eye contact brings Noel fully hard. He curls his toes into the cheap carpet, ignoring the itch of the fibers, waiting for Julian to stand and cross the room and touch him. 

His face is burning; he can feel Julian's eyes on his cock. He drops his head down; he's already leaking a bit and Julian hasn't moved and he's so hard-

"Don't." Julian tells him firmly. "Look at me, and don't even think about touching yourself. Learn to be patient for once." 

He can tell from Julian's tone that he's hard himself, and it's driving Noel mad to sit still and look, but don't touch, to be told what to do and know he won't get what he wants handed to him immediately. It sends a twist of pleasure coupled with annoyance through his belly. 

He wants to strop off; he wants to get off even more, so he brings his eyes back up to meet Julian's, his jaw set and expression defiant.

It would be a lot easier for him to be patient if Julian was sitting on the bed and he was lowering himself inch by inch onto his thick cock, Julian's warm, broad, solid body behind him. Even if neither of them moved right away, even if Julian wrapped an arm around his waist and one around his chest, hand at the base of his neck, and drew him so close, after Julian was completely inside him, he could be patient that way, Julian filling him and surrounding him, everywhere in him and around him. 

The image is too good, and the burn of Julian's eyes on his is too intense. His cock twitches violently; there's precum on his stomach and thighs and dripped on the sheets and probably the carpet too. He reaches to squeeze his aching cock, throwing his head back, eyelids fluttering, moaning at how good it feels to be touched. 

"Stop," Julian says flatly. "Stand up." 

Noel pauses for the space of a shuddering breath, and brings his eyes back to Julian's. He slides his hand off his cock, his thumb lingering at the head. His knees are weak and his legs feel wobbly; there's no way he can stand unless Julian's there anchoring him up. 

"Stand up," Julian repeats, voice low. "Stand up, and don't touch yourself, or-"

Noel's halfway up on shaky legs when he hears Julian cut himself off. He grins, his cock dripping onto the carpet now, and shivers as a drop of water slides out of his hair, rolling down his back, winding its way down to the crack of his arse.

Julian is the one to break eye contact first this time, languidly running his eyes down the length of Noel's body, taking in his wild, unstyled hair, his flushed face, dark with lust and stubble and traces of yesterday's eyeliner and mascara, the short panting breaths rolling rhythmically through his chest and stomach, the tension in his hands and wrists, fingernails chipped black and bitten. 

He stands, and Noel feels dizzy. 

"You're a mess," he says, not looking him in the eye. 

He crosses the room in four short strides, and Noel falls back onto the bed behind him without being touched, legs spread and expression begging. His fingers tangle in the wet sheets as Julian closes a hand around his cock, stroking him rapidly, so fast and hard and just how he needs it. He knows he's not going to last; he needs to come and he's past trying to pretend. He lets out a strangled cry that lands somewhere between Julian's name and "please." 

Julian's voice above him sounds relaxed. Calm, like he's bathing in the sun after a weekend picnic on the grass.

"That's it, go ahead. You're doing so well, just like that."

Noel wails, Julian pulling him off so roughly - just right - as he continues to murmur praise at him, low and steady and constant, like breathing. 

Noel's thighs twitch and tense as Julian's hand comes up to gently brush a strand of wet hair away from his open mouth and then he's whispering in Noel's ear, "Go ahead. Let go, Noel, you're such a good boy." It's the warmth and safety in Julian's voice when he says his name and tells him he's good that makes Noel's entire body tense before he comes so hard he feels flecks hit his throat and jaw. 

He keeps his eyes closed, floating in the feeling, in the sensation of Julian's warm hand flying over his cock, his soft voice flooding Noel's ears. He blinks moisture away from his eyes when he opens them, his vision hazy, his limbs too heavy to lift to wipe his face. Julian's kneeling over him, trousers unzipped, hand on his own cock, pulling himself off with sharp strokes. Noel wants to join in, feel Julian's skin under his fingers, but he's so exhausted from the weight of his orgasm, all he can do is arch his back and let Julian paint his already wet chest with his come. 

He brings a hand up as Julian flops on the bed next to him, breathing heavy, and swirls his fingertips around his chest. He licks at their cum idly, then brings his hand to Julian's mouth, offering. He feels electricity run down his spine when Julian grabs his wrist and sucks his index and middle fingers into his mouth down to the second knuckle. 

He pulls his hand free and turns, rubbing their cum and his sweat and Julian's saliva into the sheets, then clambers onto Julian's body, pulling him away from the mess they've made, knotting their limbs together. They sleep until it's time to get up and get ready for the show. 

*

Noel chuckles, balancing one hand on the bedside table as he reaches to zip his boot, looking at the destroyed bed and the wet carpet, his unused towel slipping over the edge. Julian comes out of the bathroom behind him, zipping his jeans, his hair damp from the shower. 

"I don't know what's so funny. This is your room. You'll have to sleep in all...  _ that _ tonight," he says, gesturing at the bed, tossing his boots down with a solid thump and stepping into them. 

Noel pretends to scowl, knowing full well it's not true. After they play the show and come back to the hotel, he'll follow Julian up to their floor in the elevator, the green leather of his coat creaking as he pressed his chest to Julian's back, his hands warm in Julian's front pockets. He'll spend the night in Julian's clean, untouched bed, Julian's huge hands roaming over his chest and back and arms as he rides him until they both come, nervous energy from the show burnt off, and they can fall asleep so close they wake with their ribs tangled together in the morning. 


End file.
